


before I cut my heart open and let the air out

by aeneapsych



Series: Kink Bingo [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Knifeplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1334464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeneapsych/pseuds/aeneapsych
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek likes to cut himself with his claws when he gets off, but Stiles has a better idea</p>
            </blockquote>





	before I cut my heart open and let the air out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my kink-bingo card. [BK](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ionsquare) suggested weapons and added blood play, and I can't help but oblige her (thanks for the quick beta darlin!) :D
> 
> PLEASE NOTE - I am NOT an expert in any of the following: weaponry, Chinese ring daggers, blood play, knife play, or aseptic qualities of werewolf claws. This is a porn fantasy and should be treated as such. I have tried to have Stiles be as safe as possible, but again please do not take this fiction as reality. If you have any interest in the above topics, I suggest you consult a professional :D Thanks!

Stiles was riding Derek's cock the first time it happened, thigh muscles straining and aching as he lifts himself up and drops down over and over, a groan punching out of his throat each time he grinds down.

Derek takes Stiles' hand from where it grasps Derek's shoulder, blunt fingernails digging into the hard muscle. Stiles opens his heavy eyelids and watches as the claws on Derek's other hand pop out and he blinks when Derek wraps Stiles' fingers around the wrist of that clawed hand. Slowing his movements to a slow roll of his hips, Stiles licks his lips as he lets Derek move their hands towards Derek's chest, sharp claw points pressing into the sweaty, flushed skin. Derek drops the hand holding Stiles' wrist to the couch, focusing his eyes intently on Stiles. 

“Derek?” Stiles questions, heart beating a rough staccato in his chest as he lets the thought of what Derek wants, seems to _need_ , shift around in his mind. 

Derek nods, a small gesture that makes Stiles' dick twitch, makes him clench around Derek's cock. 

Stiles holds on tight to Derek's wrist, focusing on the way the tips of Derek's claws press into his skin. The needle-sharp tips break the skin just above Derek's nipple, blood welling out in tiny drops, the red harsh and bright against his tan skin. Stiles pulls downward, maintaining the pressure as best he can, steadies his hand as he draws in a deep breath. His hips have stilled completely now, his attention only on the wet, crimson lines sliding down Derek's chest as he continues to drag his claws downward. Stiles is quickly snapped out of his concentration when Derek bucks his hips up, almost knocking Stiles from his lap as he comes with a shout, tossing his head back and shuddering. The suddenness of Derek's orgasm rocks Stiles and he drops his head to Derek's shoulder, fisting his own cock, stripping it quickly until he comes, his ass tightening around Derek's softening dick. Small shivers shake Derek's body underneath Stiles, his eyes glazed and half-lidded. 

Stiles sits up once he starts to gather his energy back, gasps when he sees the sticky mess of blood and come on their chests, swirled around like some sort of macabre painting. Unable to still his hand, Stiles wipes his trembling fingers through the mingling fluids on Derek's newly healed skin, memories of finger painting when he was a child flashing through his head. Derek grips Stiles' wrist and lifts Stiles’ coated fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean, his tongue darting in between each of them, flicking over the delicate webs. A violent shiver wracks through Stiles' body and he leans forward again, resting his forehead to Derek's. After a short while they’re able to collect themselves, making their way from the couch to the bed. They don't discuss what happened, but Stiles makes a promise to himself that this is something he cannot let slide with Derek for too long. 

~~~~

After dinner a few days later Stiles clears his throat, ready to start a conversation that he worries Derek might not want to have. Before he can even open his mouth though, Derek interrupts him.

“I do it when I jerk off,” Derek says, eyes locked on the TV screen instead of on Stiles. “Sometimes… the pain makes me come harder. I don't know why.” He shrugs, a languid lift of one shoulder. 

Stiles mulls over Derek's words. “Do you always use your claws?” 

Derek lifts an eyebrow as he turns his head to finally look at Stiles. “What else should I use? They're pretty handy.”

Stiles snorts and tosses his head back against the couch cushion. “Oh my god, do you even realize the pun you just made right now?”

A puzzled look crosses Derek's face before he drops his head into his hands, groaning. “Remind me again why I love you,” he murmurs.

“Because,” Stiles responds, drawing out the vowels. “I like terrible puns, I cook your favorite meals, and I give you mind-blowing orgasms.” He leans against Derek's shoulder and nuzzles his cheek in what he hopes is an annoying fashion. 

Derek sighs and sits up to put an arm around Stiles' shoulder. “Why do you want to know if I only use my claws?”

Stiles swallows before he replies with, “I figured next time it might be easier if I had something _else_ to do it with.”

The arm around Stiles' shoulder tenses as Derek jerks in surprise.

Before Derek can say anything, Stiles pushes onward. “I mean, I was thinking maybe I could talk to Allison, get her advice on some sort of knives or something we could use. I heard enough detail on her and Scott's sex life back in high school that I don't think she'd be that embarrassed by me asking her...”

Derek turns to look at Stiles, his face close and his eyes wide. “You'd do that for me?” He asks, voice catching slightly.

Sitting up so he can see Derek better, Stiles says, “Of course. I want to make you feel good, Derek; always. You know that, you have to. And while it was incredibly fucking hot the other night using your own claws on you, I'm thinking there might be a more sterile option we could go with in the future.”

When Derek finally agrees to let Stiles talk to Allison about knives, Stiles sighs inwardly as they settle back down to finish their movie. He had been worried that Derek might brush him off and ask that Stiles not bring it up again, like so many of their issues early on in their relationship. Stiles is happy that Derek trusts him so fully now, trusts him with something like this.

~~~~

Stiles opens the leather box he borrowed from Allison earlier that day, fingers drifting over the sharp metal nestled in cloth. Once he explained to Allison what he was looking for, and who he would be using them on, she offered up her spare set of Chinese ring daggers. Stiles gently takes one of the daggers from its box, mindful of the razor-sharp edges, and loops his middle finger through the metal ring. Tilting his head, he admires the way the weapon looks in his hand, and Stiles has a momentary gratuitous flash of grade school martial arts fantasies. 

A low moan catches Stiles out of his reverie, and he glances back over to Derek, who is on his knees on their bed, arms straight out before him, fingers clutching the headboard. Derek's knuckles are white with tension as he tries to keep himself still despite the vibrating plug in his ass. Small, pitiful noises escape his mouth, but Derek's body remains motionless. His hardened cock juts out obscenely, a black leather ring wrapped around its base. What a pretty picture he makes, Stiles thinks, flushed and shaking, and strained. 

Stiles walks over to the bed, holding the dagger in a loose grip, like Allison instructed. Leading with his right knee he climbs onto the mattress to Derek's side, eyes running along the taut muscles of Derek's back and down to his ass. Now that he's closer, Stiles can see the tiny rolls of Derek's hips as he responds instinctively to the vibrations running through his lower body. 

“I need you to be still, Derek,” Stiles says, placing his free hand along the curve of Derek's buttock. Keeping his voice steady and controlled is harder than Stiles thought it would be. 

The little movements stop, and Stiles watches a huge shudder roll through the length of Derek's body before he goes completely still. 

“Good,” Stiles praises softly, squeezing the flesh beneath his hand. “So good for me, aren't you?”

A loud exhale from Derek is the only response Stiles gets.

Stiles shuffles his knees closer so he can reach Derek's back without trouble. He contemplates which way to drag the dagger first, and settles his gaze on the dip of Derek's lower back. Lifting the weapon above Derek's back, Stiles gently presses the sharp edge into the skin, feels the give in the flesh as it parts under the blade. He drags it upwards towards Derek's shoulder blade, slow and steady as he tries to keep a straight line. Once the blade reaches Derek's shoulder, Stiles lifts the dagger from his skin, turns to watch the cut knit itself back together. Only a thin, red line of blood remains, standing out on Derek's back like a brushstroke on a painting.

“You can move for a second, if you need to,” Stiles says, voice coming out in a soft whisper. He swallows hard, finding his throat dry and scratchy. 

At that signal Derek lets out a loud whine and grips the headboard tighter, wood creaking under his strength. Another shudder rolls through him, and Stiles feels his cock harden in his jeans. Seeing Derek react to this, this thing that Stiles can do for him is better than any foreplay. 

“Another?” Stiles asks, and Derek nods his head.

Stiles begins tracing more lines up Derek's back, pausing after each one to allow Derek to respond the way he needs to. By the fifth, Derek is letting out a constant stream of curses under his breath, and his dick is leaking onto the sheets. Making the decision that it wouldn't be fair to keep Derek waiting any longer, Stiles sets the dagger on the bedside table. Framing Derek's back with his hands, Stiles leans over and drags his tongue over the lines of blood, cleaning the only remaining evidence from his skin. Derek loses his grip on the headboard and falls face-first into the mound of pillows, shaking and whimpering as he lets Stiles finish.

The bitter tang of blood makes Stiles a bit nauseous, but he tamps down the feeling as he moves to the foot of the bed and lies on his back. He scoots up to position himself between Derek's spread knees, face underneath Derek's reddened cock. Stiles sticks his tongue out to catch the stream of pre-come dripping from his dick, chasing away the bitter taste in his mouth with something more pleasant. When he wraps his lips around Derek's cock to take him down his throat, Stiles grips Derek's ass in both hands to pull him in closer. Unlike normal, when Derek is always careful to not move his hips too much when Stiles is sucking him off, Derek bucks forward roughly, making Stiles gag and swallow reflexively around the head of his cock. Tears pool in the corners of Stiles eyes as he wills his throat to relax, not wanting to release Derek until he's done with him. 

“Stiles,” Derek pleads, the sound muffled by the pillows.

Stiles lets go of his grip on Derek's ass, reaching down to remove the leather ring, dropping it onto the bed next to him. He reaches back up and grabs the end of the plug settled inside Derek's hole, spreads him open with his other hand, and pulls, timing the movement with another swallow around the head of his cock. Derek falls forward as he comes, hips bucking wildly against Stiles' face. Stiles scurries to try and hold up Derek's heavy weight as he releases him from his mouth, coughing and sputtering as Derek shoots over his face and down his neck. 

“Easy, big guy, fuck,” Stiles says, laughing softly at the absurdity of his current position and what he must look like at the moment. He shoves the heel of his hand against Derek's hip, making him roll over on his side. Crawling up over Derek's body, Stiles opens the fly of his jeans with one hand, the other supporting him on the bed next to Derek's head. He tugs at his dick roughly, grunting in annoyance as his shirt gets in the way. Derek lifts a shaky arm to pull the offending shirt out of the way, licks his lips as his eyes dart between Stiles' face and his hand jerking his cock. When Derek reaches his other hand up to wipe some of his come from Stiles' face, his thumb dipping into his mouth to clean it, Stiles' orgasm rips through him, eye squeezing shut as he pulls himself through the waves of sensation. He collapses forward, slow enough to fall into the mess on Derek's chest before rolling over onto his side, breathing heavily, and limbs shaky.

After a few moments, Stiles slides off the bed to stumble into the bathroom and get a wet cloth. Pausing to grab the bottle of water and straw from the bedside table, Stiles climbs back onto the bed to help clean the mess off Derek. He screws open the plastic cap from the bottle and inserts the straw, then guides it to Derek's mouth, holding it steady as Derek takes small, even sips. Once Derek nods that he's had enough, Stiles sets the bottle back onto the side table and starts to wipe down Derek. Derek hums softly, his eyes closed as Stiles gently brushes the cloth over his stomach, chest, and arms. Once finished, Stiles tosses the dirty cloth onto the floor and curls up next to Derek, his head tucked under his arm.

Several quiet minutes pass before Derek turns to look at Stiles, and says, “I don't think I'll go back to using my claws again.”

Stiles lets out a belly laugh, the sound loud and clear. Derek places a soft kiss on Stiles' forehead and murmurs a quiet thanks.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on my [tumblr](http://aeneapsych.tumblr.com) :D


End file.
